The Conception Deception Ch. 03

As soon as she was lying down again, I rolled the rest of the way onto her, found my target without the need of hands, and pushed deep. Her hand touching my cock had brought me close to the edge. I thrust a few times, moving a hand onto her breast and letting the excitement of that touch propel me towards release. Just a few deep pushes and then I felt her hand slide up from the bed and onto my hip. As I crested, she pulled me into her with her hand on my ass.

Surprised by her unexpected touch at just the right moment, I came hard into her, crying out in a strained voice, "nnnghhhAAAAHH! Ahh! GAH!" Grunting with each satisfying pulse of my cock inside her, I felt the tension of my day drain into her body and dissipate. Claire removed her hand after a few seconds, and I pulled out, again wishing I could stay inside her for a while. As satisfying as it was to cum inside her, these brief sensations of her pussy were still more of a tease than anything else. I held on to the hope that Sunday would be different.

My head was still spinning a bit as I lay next to Claire, and she looked over at me and giggled. "Are you sure this isn't enough?" she asked. "I'm not sure you can take any more than that."

Panting, I grinned and said, "We'll just have to try it and see."

"Of course, of course," she said. "All in good time. Now hurry up and get yourself decent. I still can't believe we stopped watching after that cliff-hanger last night." She grabbed the remote as I got my pants on and made my way to the bathroom and kitchen before settling back on the bed.

*******

The episode we watched that night had a pregnant woman as one of the featured characters. I tried not to keep looking over at Claire's expressions. When I did look, there was a wistful sadness. Nothing surprising, I guess. As it ended, Claire just sat there for a moment, looking at the screen.

"Claire...?" I asked, wondering if she wanted to talk.

"Hmm?" she said, shaking her head clear and getting up. She went to the bathroom and came back a minute later. As she pulled out some panties and put them on, I took a deep breath and asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"The whole...pregnancy thing. Why is it so worth it to you that you'd go through all this with me?"

She half-smiled and said, "Going through all this with you is a lot less work than going through the traditional route."

"You mean, like, a relationship, marriage, that stuff?"

"Yeah, exactly that stuff."

"You tried all that already?"

"Sooo many times," she said, flopping down on the bed and picking up the remote. She didn't start the next episode though, which I took as an invitation to keep talking.

"Was it really that bad?" I wondered. "I mean, I know a heartbreak sucks. I still don't know if I've healed from Morgan leaving, but you eventually get over it, right?"

"Usually. Usually you mostly get over it, though I don't think you ever fully get over a break-up, if the relationship meant anything, that is. But I think I'm just tired of the game. It's like...you know how when there's a presidential election, it starts out with a bunch of people from each party trying to be the candidate?"

"Yeeessss..." I said, really wondering where this was going.

"And to get nominated, you have to convince everyone in your party that you are the strongest representative of their ideals and values. You're the most Republican or the truest Democrat, or whatever. You have to be kind of extreme to become the party csandidate."

"O-kaaayyy."

"But then once it's down to one candidate from each party, what do they do? They try to convince the population that they're the most moderate. That they will best represent the whole country and not just one party. But they've already tried to prove how extreme they are. So you know that they're just telling you what they think you want to hear, and you don't really know who these people are. Kind of messed up, isn't it?"

"I guess so. And our screwy two-party system relates to your desire to have a baby...how?"

She sighed in mock frustration. "In dating, you get two people trying to show the other how fun and sexy and exciting they are. You do crazy stuff together, you go over the top sexually, you're always having fun. Even if that's not who you really are, that's what people think dating should be like. But then what happens when you marry that person? Is that what you really need in a marriage? In a spouse? As a parent for your children? No. You want moderation, stability, reliability."

"OK, you're actually making sense in a weird way."

"I know, right? So what's the point of dating, if what you really want is to get married and have a family? But nobody's out there trying to show what a reliable spouse they would be or what a good father they would be. They're just a bunch of peacocks showing off their flashy lifestyle or their good looks or their crazy moves or whatever. And it can be fun, but it has no future."

"But people can change, right? People grow up, they mature."

"Not everyone does," she mumbled. "And besides," she said more clearly, "it's a gamble. What if you do settle down with someone, and they never change?"

Judging by the anger and sadness in her statement, I was ready to guess she had been hurt already. "And so what happened when he didn't change?" I asked bravely.

She fell for it, "We divorced, quick and easy. Two years of marriage and he was still just a boy who wanted to dance and flirt and be crazy. I didn't have time for that shit, and he thought I had become boring." Then she paused and looked at me with narrowed eyes. "How did you know..."

"Educated guess," I said with a shrug. "It seemed too personal for you just to be saying all this in the abstract."

She looked at me for a minute, probably trying to decide whether or not to be angry, then she turned away and said with a frown, "That was 6 years ago. I tried dating again, but it was always the same story. About 4 years ago, I just decided it wasn't worth it. Too much work, too much effort, too much time, and way too much emotional cost with no guarantee of any return on my investment."

I thought for a few seconds, then said, "My dad used to say, 'If all the apples are bad, find a different tree.' I don't think he was talking about dating, but it seems appropriate"

"Well, I think too many bad apples have spoiled my taste for them altogether. It's just not worth going to the orchard anymore."

"You don't miss sex?"

"Sometimes. But not enough to risk putting myself out there again. And for me, at least, sex was a lot more about connecting to the person than the physical act. If I'm not really emotionally connected, sex just isn't appealing."

"But you still want a baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," she said softly pulling her legs up to her chest. "More than anything, I think. I didn't used to feel that way, but...lately I do." Then smiling wryly, she looked over at me and said, "And you're wondering why I don't just adopt, right?"

"The thought had occurred to me," I lied.

"Adopting as a single person isn't easy. And...even the smallest issue can make it impossible. For me...turns out it's impossible."

"Oh," I said, knowing better than to push for an explanation of her "issue."

"So even though I had no hope of finding my ideal man, it occurred to me that I might be a lot easier to find the ideal sperm."

I laughed uncomfortably. "When did you have me picked out for that?"

"Well, there have been a few guys lately that I've kept an eye on- attractive, healthy, nice personality, nurturing, already had fathered a child- but they were all married or somehow attached, which was an obvious no-go for me. When you mentioned that your fiance was gone, that seemed like the opportunity I was looking for. So I really hadn't 'picked' you out until a few days before I talked to you about it."

"And...what if it doesn't work?" I asked.

"Odds are it will, but if nothing catches after a while, I don't know. I haven't thought seriously about that possibility. Maybe I'd try with someone else?" Then shrugging her shoulders, she said, "Cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess. But for now, I think I'm ready for bed. We'll have to watch more tomorrow, OK?"

I got off the bed and headed towards the door. "Same time tomorrow?" I asked.

"Works for me!" she said, turning off the TV. The room went dark and I headed towards the door. I paused, looked back at the room and wondered if Claire really didn't mind sleeping alone the rest of her life. I couldn't imagine it, but maybe that's partly why she wanted a child- to have someone who will be there, even if it's in the next room. Someone to have at the dinner table every night, someone to talk to, someone to watch movies with. I partly feared for that child, that Claire might be setting them up for an unhealthy relationship- "surrogate spouse" I think my psych professor had called it back in college. I left her apartment, thinking, "Oh well. Not my problem, and not my child..."

*******

Saturday was rainy, which sort of changed my plans to work. I had hoped for just cloudy, which was great weather for getting stuff done in late spring. But it was pouring when I woke up, and the forecast that had predicted "10% chance of rain" the night before now said "90% chance of thunderstorms." I called my guys and told them to stay home. We'd probably make up for it the next week. Our main job that day had a big water feature, so there was no way we were going out there in the rain.

A little after breakfast, I got a call from a girl who saw my ad and who wanted to know if I had any times set up to jam. On a whim, I asked if she was free that afternoon. She said she had a few free hours after lunch. I told her to give me an hour to confirm, and she said if I didn't send an address by noon, she'd know it wasn't happening.

Wanting to run out to my equipment shed to make it better ready for the rain, I threw on some work clothes and headed out. On my way down, I knocked on Claire's door. She answered it in a robe and looked at me with a confused expression, then looked at her phone for the time. Seeing the rain outside, she said, "Oh...wanting an early start, then?"

I started to say no, then raised my eyebrows in surprise. I hadn't considered that. Before I could answer, Claire looked at me cynically and said, "I was just joking, Romeo. You still have to wait until tonight. At the very least so I can make sure your supplies are charged up." She glanced down at my crotch.

"Right," I said a little awkwardly. "But that's not why I'm here. What's your afternoon look like? I've got a girl with a guitar who wants to come jam."

Claire opened the door a little more and leaned against the frame. She looked up in the air and did that lip chewing thing that was so cute. "Give me some time to clean up the place, OK?"

"Is 1:30 OK? Guitar girl can't make it before then."

"Oh, that's fine then. Is drummer boy coming, too?"

"I haven't called him yet; I'll let you know. But I've gotta run- I need to secure some tarps at my shed."

"Alright, then. See you at 1:30!" she said as I jogged down the steps.

While in my truck, I called the drummer and told him about the jam session. I think I had woken him up, but he mumbled, "Dude...drum circle at the field on campus on Saturdays." OK, maybe I hadn't woken him up. I think he was a little stoned.

"Dude," I replied, "Rain."

He paused for a minute, probably finding a window. Then he said, "Duuude...OK. Send me details." At the next red light, I texted the time and Claire's address to drummer boy and guitar girl, noting that I really needed to get their names. I hurried through my work and got home before lunch, picking up some fast food on the way so that I'd have time to warm up on bass before the afternoon.

*******

I carried my equipment own to Claire's a little after 1. She wasn't surprised to see me, and I asked if she needed help setting things up. She handed me a full bag of trash and asked me to run it out to the dumpster. I looked at her in disbelief and she said, "What? You asked to help!" I chuckled and ran through the rain with the trash. When I got back, she had me help turn her keyboard around so that her back wouldn't be to the rest of us. We moved around some furniture to make a little circle, finishing just as a knock called us to the door.

A soggy hippie with a long, straggly beard stepped in. He had a big black trash bag in his hands. When he had gotten his coat off, he opened the trash bag and pulled out a big wooden djembe. "Rain, man. I could only bring one. But she's versatile."

"That's cool," I said. "I'm Russ, by the way, and this is Claire."

"Greetings, fine friends. I...am Rusty. Please do not joke. That is my real name. And yes, I just rain through the rain, so it would be easy to joke. But I am Rusty."

"Well, take a seat, Rusty," said Claire, as she threw some towels onto the chairs and couch. Just then, another sharp knock announced the arrival of guitar girl. Claire opened the door and a curvy figure with a guitar case stepped confidently inside. She shook her umbrella at the doorstep, then left it at the entrance. Setting down her case, she looked around. Pointing at me, she said, "Russell, I'm guessing?"

"That's right, and this is Claire...and Rusty," I said, pointing them out. The girl took off her rain boots, stepped inside, and shook hands with each of us. Her skin and hair were very dark, and she wore a ball cap and had thin braids hanging down her back. Her smile was genuine and bright as she said, "I'm Mona."

"Mona Lisa," Rusty said happily.

"Say it again and I'll throw you off that balcony," Mona snapped, her smile disappearing for a few seconds.

Rusty's eyes went wide and his palms went up in defense. "That's cool," he said, "I understand the name-related sensitivity." I laughed quietly at the irony.

It took a few minutes to get instruments set up, and while we did, I asked around about styles of music. Claire mentioned that she was classically trained but usually played more pop or jazz. I confessed that, when it came to the basics, bass was pretty easy to play in almost any style. Rusty said drums were the same, then looked at Mona and said, "I bet you..."

Mona cut him off and said, "If the name Tracy Chapman is about to come out of your mouth, boy, I will find something to stuff in it."

Rusty just grinned and said, "Naw, girl. I was gonna say I bet you have an aggressive style." We all laughed at that, even Mona, who explained that every black girl with a guitar gets compared to Tracy Chapman.

"Could be worse comparisons," I suggested, treading lightly.

"True. But that's just not my style," she said. Claire asked what her style was, and Mona said, "Sinatra. Norah Jones. Crooners, mellow stuff. But I also like straight rock."

I tried to think of how to blend our styles a little, and defaulted to something very familiar. "Let's just see what we can do. This one's in C," I said, then started the opening bass line of CCR's "Down on the Corner." A few seconds in, three smiles beamed recognition. Rusty jumped right in with an easy beat, Mona started strumming, and Claire found the chords. We jammed for a while on that song, then Mona stopped us and started another familiar tune.

The session lasted over 2 hours, but felt a lot shorter. Music flowed easily between us, as did the laughter. Every now and then, someone would sing a few verses of a song, but none of us was really a vocalist. As the clock neared 4pm, Mona stood up and said she had to head back to work. Claire asked where she worked and Mona said she worked at Jackal's, a restaurant in town. "Oh, I love that place!" Claire exclaimed. "Are you a waitress there?"

"Chef," Mona replied, putting her guitar away. "Chef in training, actually. Macy is the chef, but when she leaves to start her own place some day, I'll take over."

As Mona made her way to the door, Rusty stood up and said he would head out, too. "Lovely time, ladies and gent," he said. "Let's please do it again sometime!"

"Next rainy Saturday," I joked.

Rusty smiled and bobbed his head and said, "Nice. The Rainy Day Band...Nice."

Mona, slipping on her boots, shook her head and laughed. Picking up her umbrella, she called out to Claire, "Thank you for letting us use your place, dear. See you later."

Claire waved as the two of them walked out. I helped put furniture back and was about to head out when Claire said, "Hey, since you're coming back in a couple hours anyway, wanna stick around? We could order a pizza and watch some TV."

Not having any other plans, I agreed, running my bass back upstairs while Claire ordered food. Since the only TV was in her bedroom, we put the pizza box on towels on the bed and got through three episodes, swapping theories and discussing the plot in between episodes. After the third one, Claire stretched, which naturally attracted my gaze to her chest. When she caught me staring, she gave an exaggerated sigh and dropped her arms down. "Well, I need a break from TV, anyway, so want to go ahead and take care of business now?"

"Yeah," I said eagerly, wondering what the next step would be- something more than the night before but still short of sex. I was expecting full nudity, at least.

We moved the pizza box into the fridge and Claire fixed up her nighttime snack and drink to have for afterwards. We got back to the bedroom, and Claire looked down at her clothes. She had on loose shorts and a tight t-shirt. "Yeah, I guess this'll work," she said, making me curious. Turning on the overhead fan, she sat down on the bed and said, "So this time, pants are off but our shirts stay on. You can touch my legs but nothing else, OK?"

I looked at her skeptically. "That sounds like a step back after last night."

"I wasn't finished," she said with a knowing smile. Shirts stay on, only touching my legs, but..." she paused dramatically, "You don't need to use your hand to get ready. Inside me from start to finish."

I smiled and nodded slowly. This was progress. Claire rolled her eyes at my reaction, but she still smiled. "I figure," she said, "that since sex for you involves a lot of touching and feeling and seeing, then this still isn't everything you want. And by keeping your hands and eyes off my naked body, I don't feel as exposed. So it's not quite there, but it's progress."

"I...can see nothing wrong with any of that," I said, already feeling my hardness press against my jeans.

Claire lay back and lifted her butt in the air to slip off her shorts. I pulled down my pants and my boxers, leaving them on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Are you going to use the vibrator?" I asked, crawling towards her.

"Do you want me to?" she asked.

"Honestly, no. I find it sexy as hell, but it gets me so worked up watching you that I can't last very long. And I want this to last more than a minute or two. But on the other hand, I don't want to leave you high and dry, and I don't think you're going to cum just from some thrusting."

"That's for sure. How about I pull the vibrator out after you're done and get myself one quick cum? That's supposed to help conception, anyway, I hear."

"Works for me," I said, climbing between her legs.

"Wait!" she stopped me. "No vibe means I need lube. Hold on a sec." She stretched across the bed and into the nightstand, pulling out the bottle of lube. After a few seconds, she had herself ready for my entry and tossed the bottle back into the drawer. "Proceed," she told me, putting her hands on my hips to help guide me into position. Claire had hardly touched me in all our interactions, so even that little bit of contact made me shiver.